The Grammys

I did a recording of the Grammy awards on my home television so if you missed it here is a run down so you don’t have to watch it.


Paul McCartney looks like a ventriloquist doll, that one legged bird got out at the right time didn’t she. Robin Thick and his Dad on the keyboard are boring and need to go back to Michael Bubble’s house where Nicolas Cage is waiting for them naked. Taylor Swift, your soggy piano music does not, and I repeat, DOES NOT justify head banging and I wish you could see yourself gangster dancing up the front with your weird Mom to Imagine Dragons and Kendrick, I wouldn’t do that again if I was you. LORDE WON. I fast forwarded another super boring dude on a piano with great eyebrows. Ringo Starr did some fabulous rickety Dad dancing and probably should have quit while he was ahead, we could do without the ‘ill put out a new single just coz I can’. Cut to many surgeried up wives who I couldn’t tell if they were scared or enjoying themselves. Daft Punk couldn’t say thank you via their robot heads or accept the award with their slippery robot hands. Paul, you should have taken my advice for Ringo and his new single, we don’t need it mate. LORDE WON. Keith Urban needs a mans hair cut and to let go of his blonde streaked youth. Mark Anthony is dead inside. Julia Roberts is frozen. I have absolutely no idea what Ozzy Osbourne said into the microphone. Bruno Mars looked like Michael Jackson in the Thriller video (don’t mind it) LL Cool J is still hanging onto the cheese-cutter for dear life. Country music is weird and sucks but I like LED cactuses. Willie Nelson is the oldest living person on the planet and when he dies (probably never) his hair will be made into one thousand wigs.

The good bits in there don’t need mention but the shit bits came thick and fast and everything got boring so I went to bed. Maybe ill try again tomorrow night for good bits.
Also, I am at home on the couch stuffing my face and clearly not as important as all the important people mentioned.



My first bee sting

Hey! Wow!

So many times have passed and now its all like “happy birthday world, you turned another year older”. People actually forget that its not just Happy New Year, its HAPPY BIRTHDAY WORLD! You dummies. The earth is so goddam old we forget that something could actually get older and it seems to go on forever and ever. There will be many world birthdays long after we are gone so I thought why not get really silly out of my brains and do cool shit to celebrate this one with many mates. I might not ever get to celebrate another one ever again, I might die real soon, well that is certainly what I thought after I got my first bee sting this year….

People always say how much bees hurt, kids certainly make a huge fuckin deal about it, crying and wailing and carrying on, but they make a big deal out of everything so I didn’t think those cute fat furry dudes could make such angry pain. Until now…

Please take a moment to picture this scenario –

Driving down the motorway in the late afternoon summer sunshine in Seymour (Seymour is the name of my car). Windows down, music loud, being cool in the fast lane coz I am cool and fast. A bee flies into my drivers window and sits on the passengers seat. Mother Nature, you fine! I’ll give this dude a lift, we cool. Until the dude gets angry that he is inside Seymour and begins to fly about, banging into the windscreen and shit, getting real pissed about this situation he found himself in.

Im all sexy and carefree like a tampon Ad for teenagers. Sun-kissed skin, long flowing beach hair and tiny summery shorts on. Then there is the bee, “GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW. I DONT WANT A RIDE ANYMORE I HATE YOU AND I HATE YOUR CAR”. I feel his agitation and then I feel his sting. His long, hard hot sting. Up my shorts. And not in a good way…

He flew up my shorts and stung my pink secret. He pierced the apricot kebab. My poor little whispering eye.

I was driving 100km’s an hour, flying down the motorway and a bee stung me on the vagina. Typical.

I nearly crashed and burned and died right there and then. I needed to make a swift decision through the searing pain and pull over to safety. I fell out of the car on the side of the motorway and pulled my pants down, undies and all, yelling at my crotch and flailing about. I ran around to the passenger side, pants around ankles and found a can of deodorant in the glovebox. I held it to my fufu at close range and sprayed until I could spray no more. I thought the aerosol can would make a cooling sensation and help with the pain, but alas it just turned into a white powder and gave no relief.

I began to panic – what if I am allergic to bees? What if all my tubes on the inside swell from my genitals upwards and choke me to death and I die on the side of the road, nude from the waist down, face in the gravel looking like i have just hoovered up a bag of cocaine with my fanny. I couldn’t die like that, I had to get outta there and seek medical attention immediately. So I jumped back in Seymour and drove like the wind to the nearest chemist. Barely able to pull my pants up I rushed in crying, pale and sweaty, flashed the powers that be my throbbing red mound and demanded they give me all the medicines and injections full of anti venom to stop me from dying right there and then on the scratchy blue carpet next to the wart cream and condom shelf.


My life flashed before my eyes and I am pretty sure everyone around me didn’t know whether to call the police or actually help me. I should have pulled aside an employee at the chemist and quietly explained that this was my first experience with a bee sting, that I was in pain and confused, and the sting was in fact on my vagina rather than bolt in there at a million miles an hour, screeching for attention with my offending bits hanging out. And come to think of it, god knows how many unsuspecting motorists saw me ass out on the motorway, wildly spraying shit onto my private parts and talking to myself whilst they drove by in horror with their families and children.

So to wrap it up, Happy Birthday world, I made a meal of your birthday and started the year with a first and a real doozy of one at that.

Love from Katie Jones